Oh For Langenscheidt's Sake!
by Jinzle
Summary: Art For Hogan's Sake from the view point of our favorite Corporal. Just what exactly was he thinking during his time with Hogan in Paris? Read on and find out.
1. Oh For Langenscheidt's Sake!

**Oh For Langenscheidt's Sake!**

_This little fic is dedicated to Sgt Moffit who asked for Karl's take on the happenings in the second season's episode, "Art For Hogan's Sake". In this episode Karl gets to ride along on, and take part in, one of Hogan's little capers in Paris, France. From the run in with the Gestapo to forging a masterpiece to getting drunk with Schultz, our favorite corporal was kept pretty busy. Oh what must he have thought about the goings on around him during that time. So sit back and enjoy this little tale. If I do my job, you'll get a chuckle or two out of the deal._

A very sad and dejected Gefreiter Karl Langenscheidt stood alone sentry at, what the Americans colloquially call, the cooler. Until yesterday, he had been a happy Obergefreiter. Today, not so much. How was he to know that while on leave, he had picked up the wife of Hauptmann Kortig? The Hauptmann was a petty revengeful man who was known far and wide for his vile temper. The beautiful Ursula never said a word about being married when he met her at Hilda's Holfbrau. There he sat, quietly listening to the lovely Lizzi Waldmüller sing, minding his own business, when she casually sashayed up to his table. She had large smoky grey eyes and a figure that would stop a charging rhino. Karl was flabbergasted and pleased that she had chosen him out of all the other men in the room. Thinking back this should have been his first warning something was wrong. While not a bad looking man, he knew he didn't have the looks or rank to draw the attention of such a striking woman. Flattered by her attention, and controlled by his little brain, he agreed to walk her home. As they walked she whispered things into his ear that, when he thought of them today, still made him blush. Fueled by a long dry spell and a few beers, he was easily steered in the direction she wanted to go. What started out as an innocent walk home, ended up at the Hammelburg Hotel. There they were abruptly stopped in the lobby by the aforementioned Kortig. One call to the Kommandant and he was standing guard duty outside an empty building, reduced in rank and the butt of every joke told in camp. Ah, he was one miserable Gefreiter.

As Langenscheidt pondered on his misfortune, General Burkhalter's staff car came roaring into the compound. Klink, who had been alerted by the sentries at the gate, met the car in front of the Kommandantur with his usual fawning and clumsy greetings. He watched while the accompanying guards removed a large flat box from the back seat. It did not escape his notice that the new arrivals were being watched by the prisoners and as soon as the General and the Kommandant were inside, LeBeau, Kinch and Newkirk broke off from the rest of the POWs and disappeared into Barracks Two. _No doubt to inform Oberst Hogan_, Karl thought. _I wonder what mischief they are up to now_.

Karl shrugged away the thought and waited for the end of his seemingly eternal shift. His mind returned to his present predicament. After Ursula, he had sworn off of women completely. He was going to be as celibate as a monk. Maybe after the war he would even go as far as joining the Order. He pondered whether or not the Church would take a Lutheran into the priesthood. _Well it couldn't hurt to ask._ Langenscheidt knew he had sworn off of women forever before but this time he _really_ meant it.

Movement near Barracks Two caught his eye again as he watched LeBeau hurry to the Kommandantur with a bucket and a rag. _So the games afoot, Oberst Hogan. What sneakiness are you up to now? _ Karl watched as the tiny Frenchman pretended to wash the office windows. Karl took a few steps away from the cooler in order to see what the little man was up to. To his surprise, LeBeau opened the office window and went inside just as the General came out with Klink still pandering behind him. Karl was shocked by the outright brazenness of the prisoner but could not stop watching or sound the alarm. He kept telling himself to wait another minute before calling out the guards. He just had to see what LeBeau was going to do. When Klink started to make his way back to his office, LeBeau jumped out of the window and raced back to the Barracks. _I should report this_, he thought.

As he pulled out his whistle to give the alarm, Obersoldat Gersdorff came up to relieve him. Karl now had a dilemma. He could sound the alarm and face lengthy questioning and paperwork or he could ignore the whole thing and finally sit down and get something to eat. In the end, the decision was a no brainer. Whatever the Oberst was up to could wait for tomorrow. Besides, he wasn't the only guard who has eyes in his head. Let them report it.

With that thought, Langenscheidt headed towards the Mess Hall and hopefully something besides cabbage soup and a portion of bread. Though the way his belly ached, he wouldn't complain too much if it was.

_a/n:_

_I made a creative decision to have Karl think in terms of German military rank instead of the English versions. Partly this was due to the problems concerning his rank. In previous episodes he is called a corporal as he has two chevrons on his sleeve as he would if he was in the American Army. In fact he isn't that high ranking. He is an obergefreiter, which places his rank somewhere between a private first class and a corporal. The closest we Americans have to this rank is the Marine Lance Corporal or a Specialist. In Art for Hogan's Sake, he is shown as being one step lower in rank, a gefreiter or private first class. I felt I needed to explain why there was a difference and it becomes too complicated to bounce between the American and German ranks. Since, in my opinion, Karl isn't as fluent in English as some of the other German characters; he tends to translate their rank into the closest German rank. Anyway, that is my story and I'm sticking to it._

_Oberst: Colonel_

_Obersoldat: Private, specifically E-2_

_Lizzie Waldmuller_ _was an Austria actress and singer born May 25, 1904 and died in an air raid in Vienna on April 8, 1945._


	2. My Painting is Missing

My Painting is Missing

Langenscheidt was sitting on a stool in the mess hall kitchen munching on a stale Lebkuchen and chatting with Unteroffizier Lukas Kappel. Kappel was a middle aged man who looked more like a side of beef than a solider of the Third Reich. He stood a head taller than Langenscheidt and his shoulders were twice as wide. He had become Stalag 13's cook six months ago due to loosing part of his right foot to a landmine in Belgium. A man of even disposition, he rarely got angry but would not take any flak from anyone, enlisted, NCO or officer. In his kitchen, he reined supreme. He also was a hard worker who got up at 0400 hours to start breakfast and worked until 1900 when the last dinner dish was washed. Since he was stuck in the kitchen all day with only disgruntled enlisted men and the occasional prisoner, all who had the misfortune of having to pull KP, he was happy for anyone who was willing to give him the camp gossip while he worked. If Kappel liked you, you often got a tiny tidbit he had been saving for just such an occasion. Karl had just brought up the topic of Gefreiter Keller's newborn daughter when Oberfeldwebel Hans Schultz came into the kitchen.

"By order of the Kommandant, everyone must go outside and join in the search," said Schultz as he eyed the last bit of Langenscheidt's cookie. Karl quickly finished off the rest of the cookie and smiled innocently at his NCO.

"What search?" responded Kappel. "I have a lot work to do or the men's dinner will be late."

"There'll be no dinner until the painting is found," Shultz replied with a mournful look at the pots cooking on the stove.

"Are you crazy Oberfeldwebel? The men get little enough to eat as it is. If I delay dinner to look for some stupid picture we'll have a riot on our hands," he said placing his hands on his hips in defiance.

"General Burkhalter gave the Big Shot a priceless painting for safe keeping and someone has stolen it. Now we all have to get outside and help in the search or we'll all face a firing squad."

"What painting are we supposed to be looking for?" asked Kappel.

"The Boy with the Fife," replied Schultz. "It's a painting by Moan-nay. The General, he stole it…. took it….uhm…he got it from the Musée du Louvre for Göring's birthday and now it is gone."

"You mean 'The Fifer' by Manet?" interjected a surprised Langenscheidt.

Schultz shrugged his big shoulders. "All I know is the Kommandant has canceled all leave and everyone not on guard duty is to search for the painting. Every time the General comes to visit, something happens. I wish he would stay home." Schultz replied in exasperation.

"I think I might know where it might be," replied Karl getting up from his place by the stove.

"You do?" Schultz asked hopefully. "Where?"

"Never mind, I need to talk to Oberst Hogan," Langenscheidt said as he hurried pass Schultz and out of the kitchen. Karl almost ran across the compound. He was able to catch up to Hogan just as he was leaving the Kommandantur.

Zipping up his jacket and turning up the collar against the cold, Hogan shoved his hands into his pockets and took long measured strides towards the barracks. He had a grim no nonsense look on his face. Momentarily, Karl's nerve failed him. Last thing he wanted was to get on Hogan's bad side. _I'm not even sure he has the painting_, Karl reasoned to himself. _Who am I kidding; of course he has the painting._ Summoning up his courage, he approached the Senior POW.

"Oberst Hogan," began Karl, while vainly trying to match pace with Hogan. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

Hogan never so much as glanced at Langenscheidt before verbally dismissing him, "Not now I'm busy."

Karl skipped a few paces ahead and stepped into Hogan's path which caused Hogan to have to come to an abrupt halt. For the first time Hogan looked at the young German. His mouth stretched into a thin frown as he regarded the man in front of him. Standing with his feet apart and hugging himself, Hogan waited for Langenscheidt to speak.

"Forgive me Oberst but I think I know who has the Kommandant's painting," Karl began nervously.

Hogan remained silent but raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I think I know why he did it," Karl continued rapidly, afraid that he might lose his nerve if he didn't blurt it out all at once. "A painting such as 'The Fifer' should be where everyone can see it, not hidden away in someone's private collection. Not to mention it was stolen from the French people."

"Why do you care, Langenscheidt?"

"Have you had the pleasure of seeing 'Horse in a Landscape' or 'The Lamb' by Franz Marc?"

Hogan shook his head, "No I don't believe so."

"I'm not surprised. He was a German artist, an Expressionist who was fascinated by Cubism and Futurism. He died at the Battle of Verdun. His work with color and contours is breathtaking. "

"Interesting but what does it have to do with Klink's painting?"

"In 1936, the Nazi party decided he was an _entarteter Künstler, _a degenerate artist. Like so many of the modern artists, his work was removed from the museums. Many of their works have been destroyed; beauty that the world has lost forever. Others sit in backrooms and cellars, never for the world to view their splendor again. So I can understand why the little Frenchman would be so moved by the painting and try to save it from those who cannot really appreciate it."

"LeBeau has the picture?"

"Yes Oberst," Karl replied. "I saw him go into the Kommandant's office. Please do not be angry with him. Perhaps you could leave it somewhere so it could be found and he won't get into trouble."

"Why didn't you sound the alarm when you saw him go into the office?"

Karl spread his hands and gave a small shrug. "I couldn't be sure what I saw. The sun was in my eyes."

"I see," replied Hogan. "Ok, I'll take care of it and I'll make sure LeBeau doesn't get into too much trouble."

Karl smiled. He felt a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. As he watched Hogan enter Barracks Two, he marveled and how well the Oberst took care of his men. Their problems became his problems. He could see why they were so loyal to him. Feeling confident that Hogan would take care of everything, Karl turned and headed for his barracks. If he was lucky, after polishing his boots and getting his uniform ready for his next duty rotation, he might just be able to get seven good hours of sleep.

_a /n:_

_Unteroffizier: Sergeant is the best American equivalent._

_Lebkuchen is a spicy cookie prepared especially during the Christmas season. Since Göring's birthday is January 12 and Burkhalter stated his birthday was in a few weeks, this episode must have happened sometime around Christmas._ _(I can only remember his birthday because it is the same day, but not year, as my dad. Of which I am kind enough to constantly remind him.)_

_KP duty "kitchen police" or "kitchen patrol", military slang for mess-hall duties. Duty consists of peeling potatoes, washing dishes, washing trashcans, working the service line, etc. The only thing nice about KP is sometimes the cooks will slip you a special treat. Otherwise it is a dirty nasty job that no one wants._

_Oberfeldwebel: Master Sergeant_

_In this episode the painting is referred by Burkhalter as 'The Boy with the Fife.' This is incorrect as the title of the painting is 'The Fifer' or 'Young Flautist'. It hung in the Musée du Louvre until 1986. It was then moved to the Musée d'Orsay where it is still displayed today._


	3. Go Gently Into  the Night

**Go Gently Into the Night**

Karl entered the Barracks and headed over to his locker next to his bunk. Opening it, he got out his soap and towel. He set them on the bunk while he undressed and got ready for his shower. Wrapping the towel around his waist he walked over to the showers which were situated at the end of the hallway. Karl paused in front of an empty shower stall. His mind knew he desperately needed to shower but his body was in rebellion. The water was ice cold and made bathing an ordeal. It didn't help that the shower area, not to mention the rest of the barracks, was only a few degrees warmer than it was outside. He wondered if the NCOs and officers ever got warm showers. The last one he had was during his trip home.

He decided it was not best to put off the inevitable. The water, even cold, was strictly rationed and if he missed his allotted time, he'd have to wait two days until his next shower period. Biting the bullet, he removed the towel and stepped into the stall. The initial spray of the shower was so cold it momentarily took his breath away. After the initial shock was over, he quickly wetted himself down and turned off the shower. Standing there shivering, he soaped his entire body down and quickly rinsed himself off. He repeated the process. Then just as quickly, he washed his hair and stepped out of the shower stall. Shivering almost uncontrollably, he dried himself and hurried back to his bunk. Dressing quickly in clean long underwear and heavy woolen socks, he sat down on his bunk and wrapped his extra blanket around his shoulders.

The grey woolen blanket was thin but did provide some protection from the cold draft coming from the cracks where the windows weren't properly sealed. More than once he wished his bunk wasn't so close to the window. He would have much preferred to be closer to the wood stove that sat in the middle of the room. He smiled at the thought of how the prisoners would be surprised to learn the enlisted men stationed at Stalag 13 did not have it much better than they did.

Retrieving his gear from his foot locker, Karl began working on his boots so they would be presentable for tomorrow. He began brushing the dirt from his boots with gusto in hopes the activity would help warm him up. When he finished brushing his boots, Karl began to work on the polish and shine. Busy with his work, he didn't notice at first when Schultz came into the room. Hearing footsteps Karl looked up from his work. He was very surprised to see the top NCO in the enlisted barracks and wondered briefly if it was some sort of surprise inspection.

"Langenscheidt," Schultz said as he came over to where the Gefreiter sat. "Get dressed and pack your rucksack, we're going to Paris."

Karl gazed up at Schultz with a puzzled look for a moment and then gave a loud bark of laughter. "You had me going for a minute. Paris….very funny." Karl grinned at the large man, then chuckled, shook his head and went back to polishing his boots.

"I'm serious Langenscheidt," Schultz replied. "The Kommandant is sending Hogan and LeBeau to Paris. The little cockroach destroyed General Burkhalter's painting. They are going to get someone to copy the painting so the Kommandant won't get into trouble. We are to guard them while they are there."

"Corporal LeBeau did not destroy the painting. It's a trick," replied Karl, still polishing his boots. "The Frenchman would never destroy a national treasure."

"He did, I saw what was left of it. Oh the Kommandant was so mad. Luckily Hogan knew what to do so we are going to Paris."

Karl paused and thought about the situation_. Even in a fit of national pride and to spite Burkhalter, I can't believe LeBeau would do such a thing. The Oberst is up to something and now we are being dragged into it too._ "I'm not sure about this," Karl began. "Perhaps I should stay here. Why not take Bruno. He has said several times how much he wants to visit there."

"No, the Kommandant has ordered both of us to go. There can be no further discussion. Get your stuff ready, we're moving out in 2200 hours."

"But it's night," Karl said with a hint of panic in his voice, "a moonless night. Perfect for bombers and we will not be allowed to use our lights."

"You worry too much. Now gather your things and get ready to go," replied Schultz as he turned and headed for the door. "Relax; I've got everything under control."

"Famous last words," Karl mumbled under his breath as he watched Schultz leave. "You're not the one driving. I am in enough trouble without being smack in the middle of one of Hogan's little plots." He sat down heavily on the bunk and began to finish polishing his boots. _I've been here long enough to know Germans do not do well when they get involved in one of Hogan's schemes. I don't want to disappear like others have._ Setting the boot down Karl assessed his situation, unless he was willing to lose more than his rank by refusing to obey a lawful order by his superior officer, he would have to go along and hope for the best. _The Oberst likes Schultz and will protect him. Maybe if I stick close to him, I will have the same protection._ With a heavy sigh, Karl got up and began to get dressed.

After dressing and packing, Karl went to the motor pool and requisitioned a staff car. He made sure to check oil and filled the tank before signing the vehicle out. He then drove the car to the front of the Kommandantur and waited. He had been up for almost twenty-four hours and was tired. Karl hoped he would not be required to drive a long distance before he was allowed to rest.

The door of the barracks opened and Hogan, LeBeau and Kinch stepped outside. Almost immediately the door to the Kommandantur opened and Klink and Schultz stepped outside onto the small porch.

The three prisoners stood near the staff car and even though they were speaking in a whisper, Karl could hear what they were saying.

Karl watched as Kinch put his hands in his pockets to keep them warm and then spoke to Hogan.

"The painting and the uniform is under the backseat of the car, Colonel."

_What?_ Karl thought in a mild panic. _The painting is supposed to be destroyed. I knew they were up to something. I wonder if they will give me a last request before I disappear._

"Right Kinch, mind the store until I get back," Hogan said as he started towards the car.

"Right, will do. Good luck."

LeBeau moved the suitcase into his other hand. He reached out and shook Kinch's hand. "Bye Kinch. We'll send you a postcard."

"Yeah, you do that buddy," Kinch said smiling at his friend.

Klink and Schultz walked over to the car and LeBeau saluted Colonel Klink and opened the car door.

"Good luck Hogan," Klink said shaking his hand. Hogan, LeBeau and Schultz got in the backseat. Karl started the car and began to drive through the gates. He glanced in the rear view mirror at the back seat with the three men crowded together. Karl began to discretely check himself for any foul odors. Finding none, he checked his breath. Nothing. _So why are they all back there? Wouldn't they be more comfortable if someone was up here with me?_ Karl mentally shrugged and continued to drive. Glancing in the mirror again he noticed Hogan was looking at him with a faint hint of a smile. _Damn, the Oberst caught me checking myself. _ Karl felt his face get red. _This is going to be one long trip_. Karl looked once again into the mirror and saw that Hogan's face had broken into a full-fledged smile. _Oh my God, the man can read minds too!_


	4. On the Road Again

**On the Road Again….**

After traveling for about ninety minutes and vainly struggling to see fifty feet in front of the car, Karl's driving skills had significantly degraded. He was continuously jerking the wheel in an effort to keep it between the ditches. His head kept bobbing up and down as he struggled to stay awake. The monotonous hum of the car engine, along with its gentle motion, was like a cradle rocking him to sleep. He did not want to think about how well he would fare if they happened to meet someone traveling in the opposite direction. Luckily they seemed to be the only ones on the road tonight. He drove on hoping some suicidal tree did not suddenly jump out in front of them.

"I think we need to pull over for a minute and take a break," Hogan said breaking the silence that had enveloped the car.

"But we just started," complained Schultz.

"I got to go, Schultzie," replied LeBeau.

"You should have done that before we left."

Karl didn't wait for the debate to conclude. He turned off the road and pulled over to the side of a little dirt road that was about as wide as a pig trail.

Turning off the engine, he put his forehead on the steering wheel, closed his eyes and listened to the argument going on in the back seat. He barely heard the car doors open and close. He thought it was a dream, Hogan's soothing voice whispering in his ear, saying it was alright to take break. The imaginary voice promised they would not go anywhere. _That's fine_, was the only thought that entered Karl's head before Morpheus laid claim to him.

While he lay in the arms of the Oneiroi, Karl thought he heard snatches of conversation but was unable to understand what exactly he was hearing. His sleepy mind told him it wasn't important anyway.

_"….hurry…"_

_"Why….general's uniform?"_

_"….taking chances…."_

_"….orders…."_

_"Klink…glasses….together…..put it on."_

_"…..It's beautiful, I made it…."_

_"…..Russian Front…"_

And then Karl slipped deep into oblivion. The next sensation Karl had was of the car moving. Carefully opening his eyes he immediately realized two things. One it was light outside and two, he was in the passenger's seat. _Ah that's nice_, he thought to himself, _Schultz is driving for me_.

He was about to thank Schultz for his generosity when the noticed the third thing. There was loud snoring coming from the back seat. A sense of dread washed over Karl as he reluctantly turned his head to see who was driving. Karl cringed when he saw it was Oberst Hogan. He quickly turned and looked into the backseat, only to see Schultz and LeBeau leaning on each other and fast asleep. Both men were snoring in concert with each other. Turning back to Hogan, Karl swallowed hard and wiped his now sweaty hands on his pants.

The ghost of a smile was back on Hogan's face and Karl had the distinct impression that the Oberst was doing everything he could not to laugh at the dumbstruck Gefreiter.

"I wondered when you were going to wake up," replied Hogan, never taking is eyes off the road.

"What is going on? Why are you driving?" asked a flabbergasted Langenscheidt.

"Someone had to and you were out like a light. Besides it was my turn."

"We will get in trouble. If we are stopped…."

"Don't worry, I have a map with all the check points," Hogan said, tapping the map on the seat between them. "I'll stop in plenty of time to have you take the wheel."

"And if there is a checkpoint not on the map?"

"Oh I have confidence you'll think of something."

"Gee thanks," Karl said. "Do I want to know how you got a map with all the checkpoints on it?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

"Cheer up, there's some sandwiches in the Brotbeutel," said Hogan pointing to the canvas bag at Karl's feet. Karl picked up the bag and began looking through it.

"Hand me one, will you? It's almost 0800 hours and I haven't had anything since lunch yesterday," Hogan asked.

Karl handed Hogan a sandwich and then took another one out, as he set the bag back down on the floor board. After discarding the paper his sandwich was wrapped in, he took a bite. He slowly chewed while he quietly regarded his sandwich.

"This is roast beef."

"Hmm, I believe it is," replied Hogan as he took a bite.

"Should I ask where you got it since it is almost impossible to even obtain horse meat?"

"No."

"And the fact Oberfeldwebel Schultz is wearing a General's uniform, does that also fall under the heading of the sandwiches and map?"

"Yes but if you're really itching to know…"

"No," Karl replied quickly, "I'm beginning to know nothing."

Hogan smiled, "Just checking."

Karl and Hogan ate their sandwiches in silence. Suddenly there was a rumble and a shifting of bodies in the backseat.

"Get off me you big tub of lard," cried LeBeau.

"Tub of lard? This is all muscle," replied an outraged Schultz.

"Muscle made out of my Himmel und Ääd, you mean," LeBeau retorted.

"Zwerg!" roared Schultz

"Verrat!" LeBeau shot back.

"Now children," Hogan said, "behave or there'll be no sweets before bed."

"Are we there yet?" Schultz asked.

"No not yet," replied Hogan.

"I'm hungry," groused Schultz.

"Give him a sandwich Langenscheidt."

Karl dug two sandwiches out of the bag and passed them to men in the backseat.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes and munching on his sandwich, LeBeau leaned forward, "How much further mon Colonel?"

"We're about to pass through Verdun, so I figure another three hours before we get to Paris."

"I have to pee," Schultz called from the back seat.

Turning to Langenscheidt, Hogan asked in an exasperated tone, "Mother would you like to help me out here?"

An evil smile crossed Karl's lips, "No papa, you are doing just fine."

A/n:

_Re Title: For some reason Willie Nelson was singing in my ear as I wrote this chapter. _

_Morpheus is the Greek god of dreams. The Oneiroi, which Morpheus leads, are the three brothers who control mortal dreams. Each rules his own aspect of the dream world._

_Brotbeutel: Or Bread Bag is the canvas bag you see hanging from the guards uniforms next to the canteen. The German soldiers used it to carry the day's meal, gun cleaning kit and other things they would need during the day. In the series it is a khaki color but in the Luftwaffe it would have been the same color as their uniforms._

_Himmel und Ääd: Literally 'Heaven and Earth': Mashed potatoes with stewed apples and fried blood pudding._

_Zwerg: German for midget_

_Verrat: French for hog._

_The three hour to Paris estimate was based on it (by my best calculations) being 397 miles or 725 km. In "German Bridge is Fallen Down", Hogan notes that rear echelon drivers can't exceed 40 miles per hour or 64 km. Without stops that would make it take approx. 11.5 hours to drive to Paris. I added two hours for "rest" breaks, Schultz's uniform change and check points, making the entire trip 13.5 hours. They left at 2200 hours and traveled an hour and a half, changed clothes and got back on the road within 30 minutes and if Karl wakes up at 0800, they have been traveling for 10 hours, putting everyone approx. 3 hours away from Paris. Do not tell me my math is wrong. I suck at math and freely admit it. Don't tell me they would not pass through Verdun as I am using a map and making a best guess. Don't tell me it would be daybreak or completely dark at 8am in Germany in the winter time. Hell, I have lived in Georgia all my life and can't tell you if it's light or dark at 8am in the winter time. I barely know if it was light or dark at 8am today._


	5. À bas les Boche

**À bas les Boche**

**~ Louis LeBeau ~**

Langenscheidt and Schultz sat in down at a table outside Le Mirage Café' with Hogan and LeBeau seated a few feet away at another table. The little Frenchman had sent a letter to his friend Henri Verlaine, asking to meet him here. To say Karl was nervous was to say the _Sommeschlacht_ was a just schoolyard skirmish. Anyone in the restaurant or walking by could be Gestapo or an informer. He didn't think their chances were worth a tinker's curse if they got picked up. He shuddered at the thought of how many eyes could be watching them. Or how close death could be.

"Cold?" asked Schultz.

"No, just someone walking on my grave", replied Karl as he nervously looked around.

Schultz gave a little snort of laughter. "You are going to make yourself into an old man at this rate. We're in Paris. Enjoy it while you can." As he was saying this, he was trying without success to get the waiter's attention. Alas his efforts were in vain . The waiters passed them by as if the table was empty. Karl smiled at his superior's efforts. Silently he reached into his pocket and pulled out a Reichsmark and held so a waiter who was about to pass by them could see it. The waiter slowed down then stopped from his prior frantic pace and eyed the mark.

"_Excusez-moi_," Karl said to the waiter. (Pardon me.)

Looking at Schultz, Karl asked, "Coffee or beer?"

"We are in Paris." Turning to the waiter Schultz said, "A bottle of your best wine please."

"_Eh? Je ne comprends pas_," replied the waiter. (Eh?I don't understand.)

"_Je voudrais une bouteille de votre meilleur vin maison et deux verres, s'il vous plait,"_ replied Karl while handing the waiter the Reichmark. (I would like a bottle of your best house wine and two glasses, please.)

"_Très bon monsieur,"_ the waiter said pocketing the bill and hurrying from the table. (Very good sir.)

Schultz eyed Karl suspiciously. "What did you say and since when do you know how to speak French?"

Karl shifted nervously in the chair. "I just know enough to order a few things off the menu," Karl lied. Last thing Karl wanted was for him to stand out in anyway. If anyone knew he spoke French fluently his services might be needed elsewhere. While Stalag 13 might be one big well used latrine, it was still a safe place to be. A least there no one was shooting at you. Well most of the time no one was shooting at you.

He thought he detected a radio playing somewhere. The soft sweet notes of Josephine Baker's " _J'ai Deux Amours"_ drifted through the air to land gently on his ears. He closed his eyes to savor every note. Karl thought about the artists, writers and musicians who made Paris their home. If things went well he might even have a chance to meet Picasso. What he would give for such a chance. A sigh of contentment passed from his lips.

"How can you sleep now that we are in Paris?" asked a confused Schultz.

Startled, Karl opened his eyes and looked at Schultz. "No, I was just listening to the music."

"What music?"

Karl listened closely but could no longer hear the siren's voice. Somebody must have turned the radio off. He felt the magic that had surrounded him, dissipate and vanish.

The waiter came back with the wine and poured it into two glasses before setting the bottle on the table and leaving. Karl picked up the glass and looked at the wine. He was not a big drinker. Maybe a Weissbier at dinner or maybe a couple with friends but that was all. He had gotten falling down drunk with some friends at the University and never cared to repeat the experience. Cautiously he took a sip. _Not bad_, he thought as he took another sip.

A young woman in a teal coat passed by and both Karl and Schultz checked her out. Karl was very impressed with the caboose the young lady had. _Parisian women are so pretty._ _Perhaps I was a little too rash in swearing off women. _

"Not a bad war after all, aye Karl?" Schultz said with a slight leer.

"What about them, Feldwebel?" Karl asked, uneasy about being out in the open.

"General," Schultz corrected. "Don't worry; I have the situation under control."

"Oh yes sir," Karl said as the buzz of the wine started to make him feel a little giddy.

Schultz took another sip of wine and said with appreciation," Very good wine. I hope they let us keep France after the war."

_I just hope we're still alive after the war._ But Karl kept that to himself and agreed with Schultz. Why spoil the mood? It was too nice of a day without the maudlin thought of the changes in their lives the war had caused and the changes that would happen when the war ended.

Karl's tense muscles were starting to relax when a dark shadow fell across him. Looking up he saw a SS officer with someone Karl suspected was a Gestapo agent. A cold fear pierced him as the two men stopped in front of their table. For a moment, Karl could have sworn his heart stopped beating. Both men walked around the table and took a seat behind him. It was then when he noticed; Schultz had been holding his breath too. Karl's hand shook a little and he doubted it had anything to do with the wine. _I don't know how the Oberst can be so calm. I do not have the mortal fortitude to do this kind of work_.

Karl saw a line of troops coming down the sidewalk. As they noticed Shultz, one by one they began to salute. This caused Schultz a great amount of chagrin as he had to keep puting down his glass to return the salute. Finally in total frustration Schultz moved his chair so he was facing Karl and not the street.

A devilish notion entered Karl's brain and percolated. Probably if he had not been drinking so much wine he would have never conceived such a thought. Just as Schultz sat down in his newly positioned chair, Karl sat up straight and snapped off the best salute of his life. In frustration Schultz returned the salute and then re-positioned his chair back to where it had been in the beginning. Karl almost burst out laughing, especially when another solider passed by and the entire scenario repeated itself. He drank more wine to try and muffle his laughter. Schultz must have seen the grin Karl was attempting to hide because he began to chuckle too.

As they sat there drinking and getting a little tipsy, the girl in the teal coat came walking by. This time she had on a camel colored coat and was with an older man. Karl watched as they sat down with Hogan and LeBeau.

_She must have been scouting the area to make sure it was safe to have the meeting. I hope they decide quickly to get off the street because the Gestapo man behind me is making my skin crawl._

The waiter who had brought them the wine was back, wiping down the table. Karl noticed that he slipped Schultz a note. He watched as his Feldwebel read the note. Schultz looked at Karl and gave him the signal it was time to go. A relieved Karl placed a tip on the table and followed Schultz. They would meet Hogan at a prearranged place. He was glad to be getting off the street. He had a bad feeling about those two men and had the distinct feeling he would be seeing them again.

A/n:

_À bas les Boche: "Down with Germans" with Boche being a derogatory term for Germans. _

_Sommeschlacht: Battle of the Somme, the bloodiest battle of WWI. By the time fighting had petered out, the forces involved had suffered more than 1 million casualties, making it one of the bloodiest military operations ever recorded.(July 1,1916 thru November 18, 1916.)_

_Special thanks to Lizzi for her help with colloquial German._

_The exchange rate of the German Reichsmark currency against the French franc was established by German government as one mark to twenty francs._

_J'ai Deux Amours: "I have Two Loves" is Josephine Baker's signature song. I tells of her love for her country and Paris._

_Weissbier: German wheat beer_


	6. The Discovery

**The Discovery**

Karl walked behind Schultz as they tried to find the address on the note. It had been Hogan's idea to split up as not to draw unwanted attention. Unfortunately, both he and Schultz were directionally challenged and Hogan had the car.

"Perhaps we should ask for directions," replied Karl after passing the same shop for the third time.

"Nonsense," replied Schultz, "I have an internal compass. I will find it in no time."

"Feld….. General, you are like me, we both get lost in the bathtub. Please let's stop and ask for directions."

"I am a General. Generals do not get lost nor do they ask for directions," declared Schultz.

"You are not a General; you just play one in Paris."

"How would you like to lose the stripe you have left?"

"Yes sir," Karl answered with a hurt puppy dog look directed at his Feldwebel's back.

"You're right though, a general should not have to walk the streets of Paris."

"You could commandeer a car," Karl replied hesitantly.

Schultz stopped walking at looked at Karl, "You think I should?"

Karl spread his upward facing palms and shrugged. "Maybe a taxi would be better_." Note to self, sarcasm is a waste of time when it is directed at Schultz._

Schultz scanned the street and replied, "Which one is a taxi?"

Karl considered the question and then pointed to a car sitting at the curb with an old man inside reading a newspaper. Both men approached the car.

"Excuse me," Schultz began, "are you a taxi driver?"

"Ta mère est une vache grasse et stupides derrière votre père, d'un cheval," the man muttered to himself never raising his eyes from the paper he was reading. (Your mother is a stupid fat cow and your father a horse's behind.)

"What did he say?" Schultz asked.

"He said he didn't speak German and asked if we spoke French," replied Karl.

Karl leaned in the window and smiled. " Pardonnez-moi mais nous aimerions aller à un neuf huit trois rue Saint Aveune. Combien? " (Pardon me but we would like to go to one nine eight three Saint Rue Aveune. How much?)

The old man turned his head and eyed Karl but did not speak.

"Un Reichsmark?" (One Reichsmark?)

The old man returned to reading his paper and ignored Karl.

"Deux?...Trois?" _This is getting to be an expensive war_, Karl thought to himself. (Two?...Three?)

"Dix," the old man replied. (Ten.)

"Dix? Avez-vous perdu votre esprit toujours aimer? Que sur la Terre verte de Dieu serait vous faire croire que nous vous payons dix Reichsmarks?" (Ten? Have you lost your ever loving mind? What on God's green Earth would make you think we would pay you ten Riechsmarks?)

"J'ai une voiture et vous n'avez pas." (I have a car and you do not.)

Karl gave him a tight smile. "C'est bon monsieur, mais je pense que cette éclipse de votre voiture," he said as he placed his hand casually on his side arm. (That is good sir but I think this trumps your car.)

The old man turned his watery eyes to the P38 on Karl's hip. "Très bien trois." (Alright three.)

"Non, maintenant je vais vous donner un Reichspfennig 50," replied Karl. (No, now I will give you a 50 Reichspfennig.)

The old man grumbled but accepted the coin and the two Germans gratefully climbed into the back of the car. It was only when the car was on its way that Karl stopped to think about the consequences of their actions. This man could be in the resistance or a partisan. But before he could say anything, the car turned a corner a block from where they had been picked up and stopped. Directionally challenged indeed, they had been turning a block too soon. Humiliated, Karl gave the man another coin and exited the taxi quickly. Echoing in his ears was the laugher of the Frenchman and the various comments of how stupid Germans were.

They walked up the three flights of stairs, with Schultz doing some heavy wheezing by the time they had gotten to the last landing. Karl knocked on the door and was greeted by the pretty brunette he had seen in the café. The young lady, who Karl would learn her name was Suzette, led them to the kitchen table and had them sit down. She set a bottle of red wine in front of them, "For you," she said as she moved away from the table to where her father and LeBeau were talking. Karl could hear enough snatches of conversation from the three French citizens to know they were the topic of conversation. Every once in a while, one of them would begin to laugh and Karl wished with all his might he was someplace else. Schultz on the other hand seemed happy with his wine and sipped the sweet nectar without comment.

Hogan was at the window keeping a silent watch on the street below. Even when he appeared relaxed it seemed to Karl that the Oberst was ever vigilant, like a coiled spring ready to pop. He was that way back at camp. Even when doing the most mundane things, Hogan always seemed to know what was going on around him. It never ceased to amaze Karl how well in tuned Hogan was with whatever was going on, even when no one else did.. Karl would not be surprised if it was confirmed the man had second sight.

Karl sighed and took a sip of the wine that had been placed in front of him. His stomach rumbled and he knew it wasn't the best of ideas to continue drinking without eating anything. Rather than continue and risk being sick, he decided to turn his attention to the French artist who now was holding the "destroyed" painting in his hands. Karl quickly looked to Schultz to see if he had noticed but he was too happy drinking his wine. Karl sucked in his breath and waited for the shoe to drop.

"They stole it from the museum?" said an outraged Verlaine.

"Filthy assassins," spat LeBeau.

"Animals!"

"Dogs!" said Suzette.

It was at this point that Schultz decided to slow down on his drinking and join the conversation. Karl began drinking more as he realized the situation was going downhill quickly.

"You forgot pigs. By the way, who are you talking about?" Schultz asked.

"Germans," replied LeBeau.

"I got into the wrong conversation," Schultz said as he picked up the bottle of wine and walked over to painting. "Please don't talk that way, you make me self-conscious. "

_He is going to notice the painting. What am I going to do_? Karl's heart started racing as he got up and followed Schultz.

"Alright look, save your hate meeting for later. Get the painting started, huh," Hogan said as he left his post by the window and joined the group.

"Oui monsieur ," Verlaine said as he took The Fifer to the studio area of the apartment.

"That's right get the paint….wait a minute. That's the picture that was burned up," replied Schultz as the truth of the situation finally pierced his wine soaked brain.

_No kidding. Didn't I tell you they were lying back at camp?_

"Yeah, there's something wrong here," Karl said hoping Hogan and LeBeau would not catch on that he knew more than he was supposed to.

" You're a part of it, shut up."

_I tried to warn you and this is what I get. I can't win for losing,_

"Now you know our little secret Schultz," Hogan said with an edge in his voice.

"Ach, du lieber, it was a lie. Oh you are in so much trouble. You are in big trouble!" Schultz said while shaking finger at Hogan as if he were a naughty boy he had just caught stealing apples.

"If we're in trouble can you be far behind?"

"Oui, and if you say one word we will tell Klink you knew about this," threatened LeBeau.

"LeBeau, you wouldn't do that." Shultz considered the statement for a split second before continuing, "Oh yes you would."

"Schultz," Hogan said while leading the overwhelmed Feldwebel to a nearby chair. "You're in Paris, half smashed on good wine. What more do you want?"

"I want the truth. That's what I want, the truth!"

"What is the truth Schultz, as you see it?"

Karl watched as his NCO considered the question. "I see nothing. I know nothing."

Apparently Schultz had given Hogan the right answer. Satified Hogan patted him on the back and returned to his vigil by the window. Karl let out a sigh of relief. As long as they were quiet about the situation, they remained under Hogan's protection. That gave Karl comfort than if it would if it has come from one of his superiors. Just what made Hogan different from other officers he had known? He stood there and chewed the thought over in his mind.

"Suzette, prepare the canvas for me," the artist said to his daughter.

"I have it papa"

"This will be my greatest copy. With this I will make my contribution to defeat the Germans."

"Again, please be nice," moaned Schultz from his chair.

"And you will hide the original for us until after the war?" LeBeau asked the older man.

"I consider it my sacred duty. Viva la France."

"Viva la France. À bas les Boche."

"À bas les Boche. À bas les Boche,"Suzette replied laughingly.

"À bas les….? Er, w-what did he say?" a confused Schultz asked Karl.

Karl pretended innocence and just shrugged.

"You wouldn't be happy with the translation," replied Hogan.

_That would be an understatement Oberst._

A a wail of sirens pierced the air and they all froze. Everyone listened as sirens came closer and finally stopped in front of the building. Death was literally at their doorstep.

1


	7. Death Comes A'knock'n

**Death Comes A'knock'n**

All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Hogan's announcement the Gestapo was outside filled Karl's heart with stark terror. Unable to think, he could move only due to Hogan's terse instructions. Now he stood hiding in the bedroom, shaking like a leaf and waiting for the instrument of their doom to come bursting through the door. He watched as Hogan locked the bedroom door and checked the window for a possible means of escape. His return to his position by the door told Karl that they were trapped. He worried about Suzette. She was left alone to deal with those men, while the men hid in the bedroom. That felt wrong to him. He should be out there running interference, not her.

Karl remembered the last time he was trapped in a bedroom. It was the summer before University and he was dating a young woman named Beatrix Gärtner. Her papa came home unexpectedly and Karl ended up climbing out the window while trying to put his pants on. In his haste to get out, he lost his balance and landed on his head. As he tried to regain his bearings, his shoes flew out and smacked him in the face. He was laying in her mother's rose bushes, with painful scratches covering his body, a bloody nose and his pants somewhere near his knees, when Herr Gärtner found him. The man swore if he ever saw Karl near his daughter again, he would change him from a stallion to a gelding with a flick of his wrist. Karl never doubted the man's word or his ability to carry out the threat. He limped home and told his mother some wild story about a dog but the twinkle in his father's eyes said he was well aware of his youngest son's activities.

Karl tried to listen to the muffled voices on the other side of the door without much success. Then one of the Gestapo men attempted to open the locked door. He heard him demand the key from Suzette. Karl looked at Hogan in hope that he was working on a solution. He would not have believed what happened next except he was standing there while it happened.

Without saying a word to anyone, Schultz unlocked the door and stepped out into the main part of the apartment.

"What is going on here darling?"

"Nothing….darling," replied Suzette.

"Who are these…..oh I see, the bully boys," Schultz said as he closed the bedroom door.

_Is he crazy? Those are remorseless killers and he just called them Bully Boys?_

"What are you doing here?"

"Just a routine check Herr General," replied a now shaky voice.

" Achtung! That's what they always say. Angriff! Angriff! How dare you come here and disturb a general of the Third Reich?"

Karl noticed the voice has gotten even shakier. "We're only doing our duty sir. We had not idea you were…."

"Oh you had no idea," Schultz purred, interrupting the voice. "You didn't know that a general might want to spend an afternoon with his..uh… his..uh…"

"Niece," replied Suzette.

"Niece; thank you darling."

"I assure you General; we had no intention of intruding upon your privacy."

"No you didn't. I tell you something. If it should ever happen again I will report you to your superior officer and then to his superior officer and then even to his superior officer. I will report you all the way up until it comes back to me. And if I ever report it to myself, oh boy, are you ever going to be in trouble."

Karl was relieved to hear rapid footsteps and the sound of a door opening and closing quickly.

"They are gone," replied Suzette.

"They did? Why did you let them go?"

Everyone rushed out of the bedroom now that the coast was clear, with Hogan being the first one to get to Schultz.

"Schultz, you were fantastic."

"You saved us," gushed Varlaine.

LeBeau appeared to be unable to contain his enthusiasm. "How did you ever manage to do it?"

"Lucky for you," replied Schultz, "I was loaded."

Karl took a step back from the group and just watched in amazement as they congratulated his Feldwebel. He had always like Schultz. Would do whatever he asked. But until now he never knew what an amazing man he was. If Karl was honest with himself, he had dismissed Schultz as a likable buffoon, much like the Kommandant and the prisoners. But now he could see the man more clearly. Here was a man who had nothing after the Great War. He came home to a defeated and demoralized country. Without an advanced education, this man built his toy factory into the biggest and most prosperous in all of Germany. Schultz would have had to work with unions, accountants, and a host of various bureaucrats. A buffoon could not have done that. Karl felt humbled and resolved never to take his friend for granted again. _Everyone has something to teach if one is open to the lesson._

As the days pasted, being cooped up in the tiny apartment for most of the day grew stifling. Karl tried cleaning but the place was so small, it took very little time. So he volunteered to do the daily shopping and cooking. Something LeBeau was grateful for. Suzette had started teaching him some of her favorite recipes. Karl liked her, a lot. But he knew she had only eyes for Hogan. He'd watch her moon over the Oberst and felt somewhat frustrated. He knew he could commit to someone as sweet and kind as Suzette, just as he knew Hogan could not. The domestic life was not in Hogan's cards. He would always be looking for the next adventure. Such things did not bode well for a happy marriage.

Karl liked visiting the various shops in the neighborhood. Each one had its own special personality. Loaded with today's supplies, he started back toward the small apartment. His mind, absorbed in what he was going to prepare today, missed his turn and he found himself on Rue des Deux Ponts. He noticed a commotion up ahead and walked quickly towards it. The rational part of his brain told him to walk as far away from whatever was happening as possible but his curiosity spurred him on.

There were several buses parked in front of an apartment building. The French police accompanied by the two Gestapo men who had shown up at Suzette's apartment were loading people into the buses. Many were crying, both men and women. Karl turned to the woman next to him and asked, "Excusez-moi, qu'est-ce qui se passe?" (Excuse me, what's going on?)

"Ils ont finalement eu le temps de nettoyer la saleté qui y vivaient." (They finally got around to cleaning out the filth that lived there.)

"Je ne comprends pas." (I don't understand.)

"Juifs!" (Jews!)

Karl thought he was going to be sick. He could hear the bystanders screaming horrible curses at the people being forced from their home. People were laughing and throwing rotten food. They had not an ounce of compassion on the plight of these poor people. Karl thought back to the Kristallnacht and the American treatment of the Japanese. He supposed people were the same everywhere. There were the good like Hogan, Schultz and LeBeau but it always seemed the evil ones far outweighed the good.

He watched as the last person neared the bus. He was a boy about twelve, Karl guessed. The sadness in his eyes ripped and tore into Karl's soul. He felt himself moving forward, toward the boy with the ethereal dark eyes. Reaching out he touched the boy's shoulder.

"Quel est votre nom?" (What is your name?)

"Robert."

"Je ne peux pas arrêter, mais je ne t'oublierai jamais. Vous allez vivre, si pour aucune autre raison que de les malgré. Promettez-moi, Robert. Promesse vous faire tout ce que vous devez afin de survivre." (I can't stop this but I will always remember you. You will live, if for no other reason than to spite them. Promise me, Robert. Promise you will do whatever you need to in order to survive.)

"Je le promets." (I promise.)

And with that, the boy got on the bus and took him and his family to their destiny. Karl walked home in silence. His thoughts were no longer of food, music and paintings. Several hours later LeBeau found him on the landing. Karl poured his heart out to the Frenchman. LeBeau said nothing but put his arm around Karl's shoulder in a small token of comfort. After all what can one say? Things like what Karl witnessed didn't go on? They both knew better. He would always remember Paris but it would never be as shining and bright as it once had been.

_A/n: _

_Angriff: Attack. It took me the longest to figure out what he is saying but this is the closest, most logical word I could find._

_10 Rue des Deux Ponts is the address of the apartment building where Robert Max Widerman (Robert Clary) lived. He and his family, along with all the building residents, were arrested on September 23, 1942 at 9:30 in the evening. Three of his siblings escaped, two because they were not home and one because she hid in the water closet. Of the family that was arrested, only Mr. Clary survived. I know the story takes place close to Christmas so I am fudging a little with the date and time of the arrest. Mr. Clary was small even as a child and often mistaken for being younger than sixteen._

_Kristallnacht: The Night of the Broken Glass was a series of attacks against Jews throughout Nazi Germany and parts of Austria on November 9–10, 1938. Jewish homes were ransacked, as were shops, towns and villages, as SA stormtroopers and civilians destroyed buildings with sledgehammers. Around 1,668 synagogues were ransacked, and 267 set on fire. In Vienna alone 95 synagogues or houses of prayer were destroyed._


	8. Homeward Bound

**Homeward Bound**

The painting had finally been finished and all the goodbyes had been said. Karl finished loading the car and slipped behind the wheel. He was eager to return to camp. He needed the routine of duty to get his mind off of the events of the last couple of weeks. As he drove them out of the city, almost on cue, Schultz and LeBeau started their bickering with LeBeau threatening to never make crepes for Schultz again and Schultz threatening never to smuggle coffee in for him again. Oberst Hogan sat reticent in the passenger's seat, reluctant to referee the two squabbling children in the backseat. Karl was glad no one was paying any attention to him. That gave him the time to sort things out in his mind.

As the hours wore on, the bickering grew less until stillness blanketed the car. They passed through the check points with no trouble and as it started to rain, the children grew tired and finally fell asleep.

"You've been awful quiet Langenscheidt."

The sound of Hogan's unexpected voice startled Karl. "I could say the same for you Oberst."

"I suppose," Hogan said, pausing for a moment. "I don't like to be away from camp too long. Things can go wrong too easily."

"Afraid of what might happen without you there to cluck over the little chicks?"

Hogan gave a soft laugh. "Yeah, I guess so. Now it's your turn, why so quiet? Still thinking about those Jewish families?"

Karl didn't respond except for a small shrug of his shoulders.

"You couldn't have saved them, you know."

"You would have found a way."

"While I've gotten everyone thinking I'm omnipotent, the truth is I'm not. Not with all my plotting and skullduggery could I have saved them and neither could you. You're not doing yourself or anyone else any good with this self-flagellation you're engaging in."

"Perhaps it just hit too close to home," Karl replied in a whisper.

"You have Jewish friends?"

"No but I know someone who could easily be taken away like those people. One day she is here and the next, gone, forever and ever."

Hogan raised an eyebrow at the Gefreiter. "Someone you left behind?"

"Yes but not what you think."

"Hmm, what to talk about it?"

"No."

"Fair enough."

The conversation lagged for a few moments before Karl began to speak again.

"Oberst, can I tell you something and you not be angry with me?"

"Depends Langenscheidt, what do you want to tell me?"

"This plan of yours, Paris, the painting, it will not work."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Karl chewed his bottom lip as his hands nervously opened and closed around the steering wheel. He gave a Hogan a quick apprehensive glance. Hogan, on the other hand, seemed sangfroid; patiently waited for him to continue. Karl debated if he should continue or speak his mind. His eyes darted over to Hogan again and he decided speak before his courage completely left him.

"I don't know what this trip was about. I know the painting was just the excuse and if you don't mind, I'd really rather not know what you and the little one have been up to." Karl gave Hogan another quick look before continuing. "I do know that your painting will not pass inspection. It will fool the Kommandant and maybe, just maybe, the General but anyone with any knowledge of art will not be so taken in."

"What do you mean?"

"Forging a painting is more than just copying the picture, Oberst. There are a lot of things to consider when authenticating a painting. You have the brush work. Each painter has a unique way of painting. It's like a fingerprint. Then you have the canvas. A new canvas, such as the one that Monsieur Verlaine used is sure to be detected. Then you have the problem with the paints."

"The paints?"

Most of the artists of old mixed their own paints. Some had some strange mixtures like incorporating blood or rust into the paints. I doubt Göring would go so far to authenticate the painting but the other factors will be a dead giveaway. If he doesn't catch it, you can believe someone else will. And all roads lead back to…."

"Stalag 13," replied Hogan. "And our illustrious Kommandant wouldn't withstand five minutes of intense questioning. Why are you telling me this Langenscheidt?"

"My head is on the chopping block too. While I was under orders, do you really think the Gestapo will care?"

"No, I don't suppose they will. How did you get so knowledgeable about art?" asked Hogan.

Karl paused a moment before answering. "We all have our passions, Oberst. You love to fly. You love to command. It is a part of who you are. The two cannot be divorced from you without destroying the man. On the other hand, I'm not a man of action. I love books and knowledge. I love passing them on to people who are just as eager to learn. You love the military and will continue to be active in it after the war. I can't wait to take off this uniform and never have to wear it again. I want to go back the life I had before. That is the life I love, not this one. In my old life I excelled at my vocation. In this life I just want to get by without calling too much attention to myself. I just want to survive."

"I think I understand," Hogan said lapsing into a quiet meditation.

Karl's heart pounded in his chest. He feared he had said too much, been too honest, and now had lost any respect the Oberst might have had for him. He was unsure why this was so important to him. All he did know was his overwhelming desire for Hogan to see him in the best light possible. By admitting he hated being a solider and the military life, he feared he had offended Hogan and he now thought less of him. The idea made his chest ache and he struggled to understand why.

They arrived safely back at Stalag 13 without incident. Karl unpacked the staff car and checked it back into the motor pool. He walked back to the enlisted barracks. If he was lucky, he could get a couple hours of sleep before his next duty rotation. Shuffling to his bed, he set his rucksack down, took off his boots and tunic and settled down for a much needed nap.

He had barely closed his eyes when he felt someone poking him. Opening one eye he saw Schultz standing over him.

"Have I overslept and am late for duty?" he asked puzzled over the intrusion.

"No, the Kommandant wants to see you," replied Schultz.

"Why?"

"He did not tell me. He doesn't tell me anything. He said 'get Langenscheidt and bring him to me.' That is all I know."

"I am in trouble?" asked Karl as he hurriedly put back on his clothes.

"Who knows with Mister Big Shot," Schultz said with a dismissive shrug.

Karl practically ran all the way to the Kommandantur. Klink's secretary was not at her desk, just the red-headed duty Feldwebel, Hermann Fels.

"Go right in," Fels said not looking up from his typing.

Nervously, Karl gave a light tap on the door before opening it and presenting himself to the Kommandant.

"At ease Langenscheidt," replied Klink looking up from his paperwork and returning the salute. "It has come to my attention that there were some shenanigans with Hogan and the Cockroach.

"Sir?"

"Now don't try and deny it. Colonel Hogan made a confession and threw himself on my mercy. So I know the whole story."

"Story?" Karl could feel his undershirt dampen as he tried to maintain his composure.

"Yes," Klink said getting up from his chair and walking around to where Karl was standing. "He told me that he and LeBeau tried to bribe you into letting them escape but you refused. Pushed to their limits they attempted their escape anyway and you caught them red-handed. Hogan said they never had a chance with you around. He requested that I transfer you to another duty station but of course I refused. I need good men like you here to make Stalag 13 the model prison camp that it is. And to show my appreciation, I am restoring you to your former rank."

Karl blinked at him several times; unsure if what he was hearing was correct. "My rank?"

"I know you are overwhelmed. The great ones, like me, are always modest in their achievements. Believe me when I tell you this, you are an essential component of this camp. Dismissed"

In shock Karl left the Kommandantur only to spy Hogan standing against the wall of Barracks 2. He pulled his cap down to its regulation position, folded his arms around himself and gave Karl an enigmatic smile. Karl stood there momentarily stunned. He then gave Hogan a small nod of his head. Hogan then pushed himself away from the wall and disappeared into the barrack.

_Americans, who can understand them?_ Karl shook his head in wonderment and with a small smile, set off to report for duty.


End file.
